Since the Beginning
by livingasanx
Summary: Katniss is in love with Peeta since the very beginning. How will this affect the whole story?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is another story that I've been dying to write since, well, forever. I hope you enjoy thoroughly, and love.**

**Disclaimer: I've never owned the Hunger Games, or any other awesome story that I write deviations about.**

Today is the day that is dreaded throughout the country of Panem. Today is another close encounter to being an unlucky participant in this year's games.

The first year my darling little sister will be entered, leaving her unprotected from the most horrible thing yet; the Hunger Games. I've tried time and again to provide Prim with anything I can, and now the Hunger Games, venturing to take the thing, well, one of the things I care most about in this world. Peeta being the other thing . . .

You can't imagine how helpless I am right now. I've survived poverty, I singlehandedly feed my family, and the one thing that I should have power over is now out of my control. Prim is just as exposed to this massacre as I am, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to help it.

Regardless, I got up from my bed, where I was laying previously, and slowly got ready to go hunting in the woods. Gale was waiting for me by our usual spot, and I creep my way towards his dark silhouette. Once he sees me, he smiled slightly, and held aloft a piece of bread with an arrow through it. Once I saw it, my thoughts reverberated to Peeta, and I smiled. His smile dropped as he saw me eyeing the bread.

"Look what I caught!" I laughed at his antics.

"Is it real?" My mouth watered at the thought of real bakery bread, fresh from Peeta's hands.

"Yeah; I think the old man was being sentimental this morning. It was only one squirrel." I frowned, not happy about the unfair trade. Gale saw my expression, and rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it; today we're supposed to relax." I just nodded, and tried to be happy the rest of the morning. By noon, we had rounded up a couple of squirrels, and gathered some fruits and vegetables. We split it as usual, and I went back home after selling some of my portion for some money.

My mother was waiting along with Prim, and I knew that I had a bath waiting for me. Once I was clean, I noticed the blue dress waiting for me that my mom had lied out. I just looked at it, astounded that she would let me wear something from her merchant years. I slipped it on, noticing how soft the fabric was. When I stepped out, my mom was waiting for me, a brush held in her hands.

"Do you want me to do your hair?" She sounded slightly nervous, as if expecting me to deny her. I just nodded, and sat on a chair we had in our living room.

When she was done, it was time to report to the reaping. Prim was crying and shaking on the way there, her hands firmly attached to my waist. I comforted her, and stroked her hair while walking. There, we checked in, and I rushed to my group after pointing Prim to her section.

"Listen, Prim, this is your first time. You're not going to get drawn. You don't have any tesserae, and you're not going to get drawn. Just think about how pretty you look in your dress, and everything will be fine." She nodded her head, and avoided my eyes. I sighed, and stood up again. "I'll see you after the reaping. We're going to have a nice dinner, and eat until we're full. We aren't going to get drawn today." With that, I walked to the sixteen year old section, automatically searching for Peeta. He was standing a couple of people over, looking down at his feet, his golden hair slicked back. I sigh, and turn my attention over to the mayor and his annual speech. Finally, Effie gets on the stage in all of her pink-haired glory, and smiles at the crowd.

"Ladies first!" She squeaks, and slides her hand in the glass bowl containing the girls' names. She dramatically pauses with her hand at the lid, then slowly pulls it to her face. "Prim Everdeen!" I freeze. For one horrible moment, the whole district goes silent, and the only thing you can hear is the sniffling of my darling sister. She slowly stumbles to the stage, and I'm paralyzed. Then she steps up, and the image of her small body where someone older should be is too much.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" My voice is slightly manic. Effie looks at me, then turns to the mayor.

"What's the protocol?"

"It doesn't matter, just let her go." I hastily make my way, stepping in front of Prim, and she gets pulled slowly away by the peacekeepers, her face is frozen in a mask of pain.

"Well, after that exciting draw, let's see who we have as the boy tribute." She snakes her way into the other bowl, and pulls out the piece of paper. "Peeta Mellark!" My heart stops, and I'm sure my face is a billboard to all of the dreadful emotions making their way known into my heart. I let a whimper escape my lips.

The boy I've loved since kindergarten is now going to fight to the death, against me. I can't kill him. Not him.

"_Recess!" The teacher calls out. All of the five-year-olds cheer and run out. I go out hesitantly, and sit on a bench by myself, just enjoying the sunlight. I close my eyes, and just smile. _

_Suddenly, a dark shadow appears behind my eyelids, and I look at him. He looks shyly back, his blue eyes innocent and raking over me._

"_Hi. I'm Peeta. I think you're pretty." He blushes, then looks down. I smile._

"_You really think so?"_

"_You are the prettiest girl I ever seen. I picked this for you." He holds out a dandelion, and I quickly grab it. I blush, and put it in my hair._

"_Thank you." He just smiles._

After that, I couldn't help but notice everything smart, sweet, and cute he did. I slowly fell in love with him, but I can't bring myself to fall out of it; Peeta is just too perfect. I gulp, realizing that I am going to die in these games, just to bring Peeta back, alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the long wait. I had a bad writers block, and hopefully I'll try to get an update in every two or three weeks. Thanks to those who've reviewed, and I'm sorry for my lack of reply, but I don't know how to reply to reviews . . . Well, here's chapter 2! Oh, yeah, Disclamier: I don't own the Hunger Games series. ENJOY!**

Chapter 2

The repetitive _thump thump _of the train did little to nothing to calm my nerves. My only explanation was that Peeta, the kid I've been in love with for most of my tragic life, was only a few inches away. My body was only mere inches from his own, and every shuffle and movement he makes catches my attention.

He doesn't seem to be very affected by me, but it's only because he's not in love with me. I've always considered him my greatest weakness because he's the only thing I've ever been hesitant about. And what's worse is that he doesn't return the feelings. I'd do anything, be anything, and he doesn't give a crap about what it is. I've tried over and over again to stop loving him, but I always snap back to just falling for him all over again.

But I can see why I love him. He's the kindest, nicest person I've ever met, and that would have a lasting effect on anyone in the same situation. I have, in fact, tried my hardest to be exactly like him in every aspect. But it's not truly from the bottom of my heart.

Now, after over a decade of harboring unrequited feelings for him, and nearing the end of my life, I feel a bit of frustration. The type of frustration of never being able to ever declare my feelings, the type that anyone would feel after having all opportunities and life experiences ripped away from their grasp, all for the pleasure of some snobby idiots. I can't count how many things I'm going to lose from these unethical games, and all of them mean an extremely high amount to me.

Another emotion that threatens to overtake me is sadness. I'll never have the pleasure of giving birth to a kid; I'll never live my life in a carefree manner, unshadowed by the towering assault of the possibility of my death and the death to anything I love.

In this way, I see love as a weakness, but also a point of strength. The Capitol has no love from the districts, nothing binding and permanent. And every cruel unjust thing they've done has just provided fuel to the dormant fire that is waiting to be unleashed, and when it does, everything will come tumbling down, just as it's supposed to.

I suppose it's wrong in the deepest way, but I admit to desiring to be the factor that causes this downfall. But I haven't really come up with a plan to satisfying this need, so any rebellious thought of mine would be futile to even think.

Even now, on a train the epicenter of this inhumanity, I'm helpless to freeing the citizens of Panem. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything to spark the flame to the revolution?

Interrupted by the ungainly steps of my drunken mentor, my attention loses grasp of any thought relevant to a rebellion. Peeta eyes me, and we both share a knowing look; Haymitch is a pitiful excuse as a mentor.

"What are you two looking at? Don't you have your funerals to plan? That's all this is anyway, one whole big mass funeral. No one ever really wins in these wretched games" his husky voice slurs, and eventually some giggles come out later. "Who am I talking to anyway? Dead. All of you. There's no one here, nothing but the dead." Peeta erupts.

"Stop! Just STOP! Who are you to tell us who and who isn't going to survive? I'm not, and that's a definite. But what about Katniss? She's strong, smart, or at least, a lot smarter than you'll ever be!" And there he goes again, completely blowing me away by his selfless nature.

"Well, unless you kids are actually worth something, none of you are surviving." I finally get set off.

"We are worth more than a thousand of you." And, my temper getting a hold of me, I thoughtlessly pick up a knife from a set table nearby, and through it at him, barely missing and hitting the wall behind him. His eyes widen, and he stares at me with awe.

"You, girl, can you hit anything with that knife?" In response to his mildly offending question, I aim it at the wall, where it hits one of the flowers painted on in the dead center, which makes Haymitch even more awestruck than before.

"And Peeta, he's strong. He took second in the wrestling team, only after his brother." Peeta looks at me doubtfully, and rolls his eyes.

"Well, Katniss has more talents. She can use a knife, but you should see what she can do with a bow." My eyes widen at this. Peeta Mellark, the most perfect boy in the universe, has actually noticed something about me? Haymitch looks between us, as if examining something that only he can see.

"Stand up, both of you," we comply, and after thoroughly staring us down, he smiles in satisfaction. "Both of you seem fit and attractive enough. And it seems as if you actually have some sense of survival. Let's make a deal, you stop judging me for my lifestyle, and I'll be a mentor. Now, let's watch the reapings." He leads us to another compartment, and there we find a large TV and some leather couches.

I sit on a couch that is meant for two people, and Haymitch chooses a solitary recliner. Peeta looks between me and the other couch, and he then sits next to me. My senses immediately pick up every movement he makes, which causes my mind to be distracted from the program.

It goes on for a bit until I recognize my face on the screen. I see myself wince when Peeta's name gets called, and if you looked really closely, you can see a single tear leak out of my eye. When Peeta and I shake hands, my own grips his hand as a life support, and the desperation is clear in my eyes.

When the anthem plays, my eyes never leave Peeta, and it seems very obvious, or at least to the public eye, that I am very much in love with him, which is true.

The TV flickers of at the end of the program, and I am reminded about my terrible good-bye time at the justice center.

_My tears are streaming down my face in hot, salty streaks. My sobs are muffled by my hand that is clenched over my mouth. The peacekeepers are harshly pulling me towards the room where I will say goodbye, possibly forever, to the people I love._

_Once I am seated, I try to get a hold of my eccentric emotions. My tears slow, and I am no longer making those horrible noises._

_My mother and Prim come in, and Prim spends the duration crying, and asking me to make a promise that I can never make: to come home. Peeta needs to live, and I know that Prim won't understand that. So it's no surprise when she starts crying even harder. My mom seems to be calm, and her emotions aren't running wild. I think that she will pull through this time, for Prim. _

_After both of them being rushed from the room, Madge takes their place. In her hand is a gold broach. She offers it to me silently, and I shake my head._

"_You deserve it. You are, or will be, a joyous songbird, unrestricted by the bindings that the rest of us have. You, despite what's happened, haven't been held back a bit. You've supported your family, despite your burdens. You've rose above us, and have stayed strong. You represent hope; you are a Mockingjay." Her words leave me silent, and I hesitantly take the beautiful pin from her palm._

I have the thing on my shirt now, the foreign weight a constant in reminding me of her words. Gale also came, but I was in such a daze that I can't even remember what he said.

"Katniss. Can I speak with you alone?" I look up from my spot next to Peeta at the gray eyes of Haymitch. I just nod, curious as to what he would want with me.

**And that's a rap. I hope you liked it! And, better yet, my first cliffhanger!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the hunger games, but I do own a very psychotic dog . . .**

**Thanks to your favorites, follows, and reviews! You don't know how ecstatic I was to learn that I actually am attracting viewers and people actually liking what I write . . .**

Chapter Two

"What would you like from me?" I said as we stepped out of the train compartment into an empty room.

"Well, I've been noticing the looks you two kids share with each other, sweetheart, and I think something is going on between you two."

"And that would be . . ." my voice was perfectly flat.

"I see the way you look at him; as if he's truly something."

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway; Peeta will never love me." He smiled in response.

"So, you're in love with him?" My cheeks felt warmer with what I would assume is a blush.

"Those particular words never left my mouth."

"But, you see, I'm a very good judge of personalities, and it's extremely obvious to me that you are completely taken with him."

"And what am I going to do about it? So what, I love him, and what then? He doesn't love me back, and he never will; we are going to die within the next couple of weeks."

"If I were you, I wouldn't lose hope so quickly. And this conversation is over; you are dismissed to go to your room."

The days that follow go by at a painstakingly slow pace. The train, once it finally stops, opens the door to a place that's so foreign, so _alien, _me that I believe that once I exited those semi-familiar doors I've been a dream full of not-quite-human colorful figures that seem to fawn over Peeta and my very presence. The buildings seem to be large versions of the candies I've seen back at home, and completely eye popping and headache stimulating.

Once dropped off at the remake center, I am painfully plucked, scratched, and pulled to the Capital's version of perfection. The only ordinary person I've encountered is my stylist, Cinna, who I find a friendship in.

After he has his way with my hair and makeup, he gives me a stretchy black unitard with a flaming red cap and crown. I snuck a look in a mirror, and was met with a woman whose eyes popped from the smoky eye shadow, giving her an appearance of _dangerous_.

It wasn't until Cinna had a lighter out did I realize the true purpose of my vibrantly colored cape. He set it on fire, attracting the eyes of thousands of Capital citizens. Peeta had clutched at my hand, the contact sending internal sparks, and I clutched at his back, reluctant to let go.

Peeta, as the days passed, has become very close to me. We go out onto the rooftop each night, reflecting in that day's adventures. After each conversation, we stare at each other as if there's something more that we have to say, but leave hastily after.

Haymitch and Effie, for some reason, are pleased with our closeness, which triggers both Peeta and I to become slightly more elusive with our meetings.

Right now I'm at the Interviews, with my stomach fluttering due to the proximity of Peeta, and the looming harassment that is the Games. I seem to be in a daze, until I find my legs mindlessly climbing the stairs to the stage, and once there assaulted by Caesar's comedic questions. He asks me, near the end of my interview, to twirl, and I giggle and oblige.

He smiles at my silliness, and I collapse back in the chair.

"So, the Gamemakers have noticed you and Peeta Mellark's closeness in both the training area and the chariot. Any details?" He smiles for a second, and my mind seems to be spiraling out of control.

Before I can reply, the beep of the two minute timer goes off, releasing my stress. Peeta catches my eye and gives me a shy grin, and then vacates the chair for the final interview.

"Peeta, I'm not going to waste any time: are you and Katniss dating?" Peeta blushes and my eyes pop. I can feel my stomach drop, and my heart starts beating rapidly.

"No" his answer seems sad.

"Is there anything that you feel for her?"

"Well, ever since I saw those two big, gray eyes, I've been entirely captivated. It was the first day in school, and the teacher asked if we knew the valley song. Katniss' hand shot into the air immediately, and the teacher put her on a stool. Her voice seemed to embody peace, and I couldn't stop thinking about her, even at that age. Since that day, I've been completely in love with her."

My heart rate sky-rockets and my blush appears on television to all of Panem. The only question on my mind is whether it's true or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Sorry for the freakishly long wait. I'm sorry; I've been busy with my school and have had little to no time to even consider writing . . . Well, I hope you don't hate me and don't manage to find either my address or email address in case you find it necessary to kill me. Not that I disagree, mind you, but then it would require me to rise from the grave **_**and **_**figure out what to write next before updating, and, between you and me, I'm not sure how long it takes to do just that.**

**Alright, I can tell already that you guys are thinking SHUT THE FREAK UP AND **_**WRITE**_**! So, **

**Disclaimer: Do I look like a chick demented enough to come up with a game that involves the killing of 11 minors? I didn't think so.**

_My breath came out with surprising __strenuosity. My lungs ached with need for more oxygen; a need I can't supply. My legs can't seem to find more strength to continue on their' flight, but still I keep going. Why? But the answer comes facilely; death. If I stop running, that's what's surely to ensue. So I keep running, in whatever way I can from the threat that remains unknown to me. _

_Where am I? But that too comes easily, the arena. I know it's the arena due to the generated sky up above riddled with those strange, glittering green lines that you have to squint to see during daylight. _

_Where's Peeta? And boom, it hits, and somehow I find myself stalk-still and faced with a terrific scene; Peeta's skin is the gray-white of death, or at least that that isn't covered with the maroon, dried blood from the slit in his throat. My breath, already struggled, ceased to flow, and my heart went into overdrive. My legs took me a few more feet, and then collapsed. Tears flowed freely down my contorted face, fuelled by the fresh-hot pain, incurable pain of heart break. _

_His still form suddenly sprang to life when he started heaving, and his eyes flickered open revealing those blue orbs of innocence. They looked around, as if trying to determine where he was by surroundings, before they landed on my form._

_They widened, and he tried to pull himself closer to me. He then stopped, and his eyes filled with some sort of pain, and his coughs became more severe. I dragged myself closer to him, and clutched his feeble head in my hands. _

_His wound seemed to have opened some more at the movement, and fresh, warm blood stained his and my own clothes alike. He didn't seem to care, and his eyes seemed to be filled with some new light. He coughs some more, but his body stills once again._

"_Katniss," he barely whispered; his voice the saddest form of weak. "Please, listen; I know that I'm about to die. But before I go, I want you to know that I love you; you are my light, love, and life. Please, Katniss, remember that I loved you when I'm gone. And when you die, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, ready to start what wasn't able to be started before: we'll be happy."_

"_Peeta-"I urge, but then get cut off by his spluttering coughs._

"_Katniss, he's calling me, but I love you, don't ever forget that. I love you," he barely wheezed out through his coughing fits. My tears came out more forcefully, and I pulled myself closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, as if my proximity to him will save him. _

_After a moment, he breathed in, and spluttered more violently than ever before, and he stilled. I cried, still holding him, my tears merging with his blood. After a while, the warmth escaped his body, and my sobs ceased to find wake. _

_I pulled away, and my vision started tunneling after seeing the pallid, dead face off my only love._

_I start to scream, and the strangled sounds come out in some type of horrible death song._

I sat straight up after something cold clamped over my lips. I sat up, and found myself inches away from black-fringed, hazy-blue eyes that were slightly widened with anxiety. When he opened his mouth, every wispy word blew at my tear-streaked face.

"Katniss? Are you alright?"

His concerned tone soothed me a bit, and I looked around my surroundings. When I was certain I couldn't see the green form of landscape, I calmed down, and let Peeta soothe me.

After his confession on stage, we were whisked away by Haymitch and Effie and didn't have any time discuss it. They said that they wanted us to get to bed early to have us properly rested for the games tomorrow, but I think they were trying to separate us so we had to talk during the games for whatever reason.

"Umm, yeah, sorry to wake you up, I was just having a bad dream." His eyes held sympathy, and he backed away some.

"It's not a problem; I couldn't sleep. I guess it's just because of the possibility of dying tomorrow. But, would you like to share?"

I stood still, surprised that he wanted to know.

"I just had a whole 'I'm going to die tomorrow' dream," I blushed, not telling the truth. He sighed.

"Well, that makes two."

We sat there for a bit, until the atmosphere settled and awkwardness fell. We looked down in sync, and that caused me to giggle despite the silence. After a little longer, he looked me in the eye.

"You know, what I said, it's all true."


End file.
